


you open your mouth, i'm hypnotised

by bellsrke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But it's okay we love him, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Requited Love, Roommates, bellamy is kind of an idiot in this, like very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellsrke/pseuds/bellsrke
Summary: “Sorry, I didn’t really know how to tell you. It’s kind of awkward,” he fumbles around the words.She lifts her head out of her hands. “Awkward?”“I mean— yeah? You’re my best friend and I saw you passed out on your bed, naked,”--Bellamy walks in on Clarke passed out and naked, and he can't shake the feeling of guilt he has.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 117





	you open your mouth, i'm hypnotised

**Author's Note:**

> starting with a disclaimer that following recent news i am not in support of bob and eliza anymore, although i personally have managed to separate them from bellamy and clarke i can understand why others havent been able to yet.
> 
> i have always separated fic!bellarke from show!bellarke anyway, but honestly i'm not invested in the show anymore since it's almost certain we won't get canon. i love writing them and reading others' works of them in different settings. fanfiction is really the only version of bellamy and clarke that i am invested in anymore. what helped separate bellarke from beliza for me is reminding myself that bellamy and clarke are very different to the actors who play them, and it also helps that i dont picture beliza when i read/write them. but everyone has different feelings about that and that's okay!
> 
> i love these characters immensely and i'm not ready to fully let them go yet even if it's just to indulge in how others perceive them.
> 
> that being said, i hope everyone's staying educated on current issues, [here](https://dotherightthing.carrd.co/) is a link with places you can donate, sign petitions etc for everything going on!
> 
> stay safe and enjoy reading x
> 
> title from single by the neighbourhood

Bellamy yawns as he sits in front of his laptop, slightly struggling to keep his eyes open as he continues to type on the essay he’s trying to finish editing. He’s got a deadline soon, and he tells himself that’s the only reason he’s up at almost two AM, definitely _not_ because he’s waiting for his best friend, who will almost certainly be completely smashed, to come home safe. Ask any one of their other friends and they’d undoubtedly say that it’s because he’s ass-backwards in love with Clarke. It’s something that Murphy and Miller have been teasing him relentlessly about for the better part of a year, and the truth is, he can’t even bring himself to deny it anymore. He’s so agonisingly in love with her that he doesn’t even know what to do with himself; he has to remind himself to cool it every time she gets in his vicinity because it’s like the filter in his head comes loose, and countless times he’s almost embarrassed himself by telling her how much he wants her, how much he loves her, how there’s absolutely no one else in the world for him other than her. And to make matters worse, he fucking _lives_ with her, because of course he does; he sees her everyday in those tiny little pyjamas she wears, hears her terrible singing in the shower, witnesses every failed attempt at cooking she’s ever made, and it’s only made him fall harder.

Essentially, he’s completely hopeless and royally fucked, that much he can admit. He shuts the lid of his laptop with a sigh, concluding that he won’t be able to get anymore work done tonight whilst he waits for her to arrive home. He’s about to collapse his head on the back of the sofa before he hears keys fumbling at the door, and a tiny feminine hiccup that confirms to him it’s Clarke (he takes a moment to roll his eyes at himself, because who the fuck can recognise someone from their hiccups?) 

He rolls off the couch and walks into the kitchen, pretending to make himself busy as he hears her stumble through the door in the least subtle way possible. He can tell she’s trying to be quiet because she hits her foot on something and whisper-yells _fuck_ before he hears her take her shoes off and try to throw them on the floor as quietly as possible.

Bellamy guesses that this time is as better as any to make his presence known instead of just standing in the kitchen listening to her struggle to keep the noise down since she obviously thinks he’s asleep. He walks out of the kitchen to find her still struggling with her shoes out in the hall, her face pulled into a look of concentration.

“Need some help?” he asks softly, trying to stifle the grin that’s spreading on his face.

Clarke jumps a little and gasps, clearly not expecting Bellamy to appear. “No, s’okay, I got it,” her words are slurred and slow, like they always are when she’s drunk, and she manages to pull her shoe off but loses her balance a little. Before she can fall to the ground, Bellamy stabilises her by putting his hands on her hips and she straightens, putting one hand on his chest. 

“Mmm, my knight in shining armour,” she says lightly, and Bellamy doesn’t have time to laugh before she moves her face towards his and plants a gentle kiss on the side of his face, an inch away from his lips. It’s short, but as she pulls back her touch burns on his face and he can feel his heart rate kick up a notch.

She hiccups again which stirs him into motion, and he takes his hands off her hips, immediately missing the feeling. “You get yourself to bed, I’ll get you some aspirin and water,” he says as he guides her to her room.

She giggles a little before answering. “M’kay Bell.” His heart surges at the nickname on her sleepy tongue, and _fuck_ he adores her so much, even when she’s stupidly, annoyingly drunk.

It doesn’t take him long to fill up a glass of water and find some aspirin from one of the cabinets. He walks towards Clarke’s room, gently pushing the door open with his shoulder. “Hey, I—“ he starts before he looks up at her lying on her bed, on top of her sheets, _completely naked._

She’s on her back, arms to her side, seemingly completely passed out and Bellamy’s still trying to process the fact that she’s literally stark naked. He realises he’s been looking at her for a few moments, his mouth agape before his mind catches up with him. _Clarke drunk. Clarke drunk and passed out. And naked. Naked?_

His thought process whirs constantly. He turns around out of respect to her because he’s mortified; he’d been (albeit guiltily) fantasising about seeing her naked for literal months and this is how it happens for the first time? He feels terrible, and dirty. But he decides he can’t just leave her there, so he does his best to avert his gaze as he puts the glass and tablets on the table beside her bed. He doesn’t know where she keeps her pyjamas so resorts to getting a t-shirt of his own, closing his eyes as he attempts to lift her arms up and drag it over her head. It takes a few tries but eventually her limp head pops through and he pulls the t-shirt all the way down so that it covers her to her thighs.

He feels comfortable enough to open his eyes now, and he softens, seeing her sleepy face, her lips slightly parted, in _his_ t-shirt. It’s a lot for him in the early hours of the morning.

He lifts her gently and pulls back the covers, lying her on her side and propping some pillows behind her in case she throws up in the night. He drapes the sheets back over her, and finds himself tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She nestles her head on the pillow a little, and he think’s he’s woken her up for a moment but then realises she’s dreaming because she makes soft mewling noises that do something stupid to his heart. Without thinking, he bends down to place a kiss on her temple. As he pulls up, he hears her say something.

“Mm, Bellamy,” it’s almost incoherent, the way she says his name, but it’s his nonetheless and it makes his heart rise to his throat when he clocks that she’s dreaming about him. He decides to leave before he does something stupid like get in beside her and wrap her up in his arms so that he can bury his nose in her hair. He loves the way it smells, always sweet, like coconuts or something.

The next morning is a Sunday, so Bellamy’s up later than usual. He’s in the kitchen making a cup of coffee around 10:30 when he hears Clarke pad into the room, letting out a soft groan. He turns around as she takes a seat across the island.

“Rough hangover?” he half-jokes, sliding her over a cup of coffee which she accepts gratefully, encasing the mug with both her hands.

“That’s an understatement to say the least. I can’t even remember what happened past my fifth tequila shot,” she shakes her head as she responds. He laughs at her a little before she speaks again. “Why am I in your t-shirt by the way?”

He can feel the tips of his ears heat up, knows they’re probably turning a subtle shade of pink. “Do you really wanna know?”

She groans again and puts her head in her hands. “Oh God, what did I do.”

Bellamy rubs his hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I uhh- I went to get you a glass of water and some aspirin and when I came back you were passed out on top of your bed. Naked.” He almost has to choke that word out because _God,_ this is embarrassing to recount.

She splutters a little on her coffee. “Sorry?” she manages to squeak out when she’s caught her breath.

Bellamy’s eyes widen, because he’s just realised the implications of his words. “No! I just- you were on your back and I didn’t want you to wake up like that so I put one of my t-shirts on you. But I didn’t look, I swear!”

“I can’t believe I did that,” her voice is muffled, with her head still in her hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t really know how to tell you. It’s kind of awkward,” he fumbles around the words.

She lifts her head out of her hands. “Awkward?”

“I mean— yeah? You’re my best friend and I saw you passed out on your bed, naked,” he frowns.

Theres an unreadable expression on her face before she responds. “Best friends, right,” she nods, and pauses for a moment. “Thanks for the coffee, bestie,” she says, although the way she said _bestie_ sounded a little off to him. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

For the whole of the next week, Bellamy just kind of dances around her awkwardly. Honestly, he just feels guilty that he saw her naked without her consent and it’s eating up his conscience. His mind is stuck in this constant battle of that and the fact that he’s wanted to see her naked for ages now.

He doesn’t want to avoid her, per sé, but he probably ends up doing so because Clarke picks up on his weird funk.

They’re watching a movie, like they usually do on Friday nights, and Bellamy can’t sit still. His mind is still struggling with what happened last week. An hour into the film, Clarke huffs and launches up from the couch, turning to face him, standing up.

“Are you good?” she asks, and he can see the annoyance written on her face. She crosses her arms over her chest and it pushes her boobs up a little. 

Bellamy swallows. “Yeah, why?” his voice is croaky, he knows it himself.

“Because you’ve been acting weird all week! You won’t sit still when you’re around me, you keep making excuses not to be in the same room. You’re being monosyllabic when you’re usually the one who always talks my ears off when we get home. So what is it, Bellamy? What the fuck did I do?”

He stands up to face her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t _do_ anything. That’s the point, it’s what I did, okay?”

Clarke frowns at him. “What did you do?”

Bellamy can’t look her in the eye when he speaks. “I feel bad about Saturday night.”

“What, because you saw me naked?” she scoffs. “I didn’t realise you were that repulsed by me, my apologies.” Her voice is bitter, and it’s clear she’s hurt.

He turns his head to look at her. “No! No, that’s not it… I just- I feel bad that I saw you when you were passed out.”

“So it’s a consent issue?” she says, her voice still as loud as before, and she begins to tug the hem of her top over her head. “Fine, here’s your consent,” she finishes as she reaches behind to unhook her bra and fling it a little aggressively across the room.

Bellamy stands there with his mouth open like a fish. He keeps looking from her chest up to her eyes, and back down again. _Clarke Griffin topless. Clarke Griffin’s boobs. What?_

“What are you doing?” he manages to choke out, settling his eyes on hers.

He can see her chest heaving a little dramatically, and he’s grateful that he’s not the only one. “You wanted my consent, so here it is,” she gestures to her chest as she speaks.

There’s a long pause between them and they seem to shift closer ever so slightly. Bellamy is the one who breaks it. “Your boobs are out.” _What the fuck? Why did he just say that?_

Clarke laughs before breaking that final step between them. “You’re such an idiot,” she says, before clasping her hands on either side of his face and bringing his lips down to hers.

It takes a moment for Bellamy to react, but he opens his mouth to her and lets her tongue slide over his bottom lip. That’s enough to ignite something in him, because his hands grip her waist to pull her back and the backs of his knees hit the couch. She climbs onto him, bracketing his hips with her thighs as they continue to kiss. Bellamy runs his hands up her sides, lets his thumbs graze her nipples which entices a noise from the back of her throat.

He pulls back suddenly, realising where he is.

“Something wrong?” she says, a little breathy, grinding her hips down a little and he feels himself growing harder. 

He shakes his head. “No, I just— fuck. I’ve wanted this for so long, I want to make sure we’re on the same page, you know? I don’t know how much more my heart can handle when it comes to you.”

She caresses the side of his face softly, rubbing her thumb on his cheek. “You _are_ my best friend, Bell, you’re the person I love most in this world. I’m in love with you.” The last part comes out a little shy, and Bellamy feels warmth spread through him

He can’t help but smile and lean into her touch. “Yeah?”

She nods her head as she moves to place kisses along his jaw. “Mhmm.”

“Good, because I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you that I’m in love with you and every time I’ve just chickened out.”

Clarke pulls away from his neck to face him again, a bright smile stretching across her face. He smiles back at her, surging forward to catch her lips again but it’s messy because of how wide their grins are. He moves his hands back to her chest, runs his fingertips over her breasts again and squeezes them, loving the way they spill out of his hands a little.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she murmurs against his lips as he continues to move his hands all over her chest.

“So hot,” he groans, and she makes a calculated move against him that spurs him to grip her thighs and stand up. She lets out a little yelp, and then a giggle. It may be his favourite sound ever.

He carries her to his room and lies her down on the bed carefully, gazing at her fondly from above her.

They stay like that for a moment before she speaks. “Don’t ruin this by saying something stupidly cheesy now, Blake.”

He huffs out a laugh and climbs on top of her, bracing his knees in between her legs and clasping one of her hands with his. She lifts her thighs to accommodate him. “Mm, I’ll try. But you know that’s hard for me.”

She just shakes her head as she leans up to kiss him again, and this kiss is different from any other he’s ever had. He feels like they’re pouring out every emotion into one another, shedding their skin and finally being vulnerable with each other in a way they never have before.

Their love is felt within the way they touch each other, from the way he gently pulls her underwear down her legs, leaving small kisses on the inside of her thighs, to the way she traces the lines all across his body, her eyes following in her finger’s wake. 

But it’s not only the gentle touches where it’s felt, it’s also in the way he seems to already know the way to get her keyed up with the rough pads of his fingers against where she’s most sensitive. It’s in the passion of their movements, when he finally pushes into her and she feels him hit this one spot that’s been untouchable before.

Every kiss, every noise, every gentle or rough touch of the skin feels new but strangely familiar. Whilst he braces himself on one forearm, he uses his other hand to run along the outside of her thigh, gaining more access, getting impossibly closer to her as they still move in tandem. Their breaths get heavier, movements get increasingly rapid and they find their release at the same time, and she arches her back off the mattress into him, the divine feeling of her clenching down on him as he feels himself spill inside of her.

He doesn’t pull off right away, but when he does he just slips beside her, propped up on one elbow with her arm still draped across his back, running lines up and down it. Her hair has fallen in front of her face and he brushes it away with his fingertips, stroking her hair affectionately as he feels his heart surge for her, the girl who makes him feel like he’s capable of absolutely anything.

It’s her who breaks the comfortable silence they’re sitting in. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  


“I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. I thought I could always live with being your best friend, and that would be enough,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but he still looks at her fondly.

“Well it’s a good thing that doesn’t have to be enough, then.” She moves her hand to trace the sharp line of his jaw absent-mindedly.

He can’t help but widen his smile further at her. “Yeah, it is,” he says with ultimate conviction.

He kisses her again, and he wants to cherish this moment, the way he finally knows how she tastes, how she feels. He loves the way her creamy skin contrasts his tan skin, loves the way they fit together so perfectly. He wonders how it took them so long to get here

Falling in love with her didn’t happen in one day, it came in gentle waves, washing over him until he realised he was wholly consumed by her, drowning in his utter adoration for her. And now she’s keeping him afloat.

**Author's Note:**

> edited by myself so it's probably got some errors cus i kinda just skipped through it. also i found the gif on twitter originally and just freaked out over how much it looked like them and that's how i imagined them in this one-shot.
> 
> comments and kudos appreciated <3


End file.
